No Good Deed
by Absolute Edge
Summary: What if Humanity had encountered alien life long before the Relay 314 Incident? What if those aliens were hostile? What if the war between them made Humanity cold and hateful? What if that hatred boiled and thrived over decades? First contact would be... dangerous / ME1 / AU / CC / rated M for language, violence, abuse, rape, torture, etc. / Enjoy
1. Incident I

**This story has been rewritten due to my improper use of predefined character personality and off-topic plot development. The following is the updated and, hopefully, correct story that would reflect the actions and dialogue of a xenophobic Human race making first contact with the Mass Effect universe and the resulting carnage.**

**Remember, this is **_**not**_** a romance, friendship, or comfort story. This story is about taking the **_**worst**_** of a people, amplifying it tenfold, building a society that revolves around hate and distrust for the unknown, and figuring out what might happen when aliens are tossed into the meat grinder.**

**Hostility, brutality, cruelty, violence, and racial tendencies have been magnified to make this story more realistic. Some readers may find some scenes disturbing and should use caution while reading as they may directly contradict, or insult, personal feelings that relate to a situation and/or beliefs in the Human race and our '**_**natural good will towards others**_**.'**

**The truth is less so.**

**We are not kind, we are not compassionate, we are not empathetic, and our abilities to see equality are an impossible desire in the long running jest of our existence.**

**Inherently evil comes to mind.**

_**Enjoy**_**.**

* * *

**No Good Deed**

By: Absolute Edge

Incident I

* * *

**First Contact**

* * *

**_- - - Asari Republic Fleet scout cruiser – Quiet Verity_**

"What do you make of it?" Commander Kell S'Thus asked her First Sergeant; she looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Signatures imply massive energy blooms near the 314 relay." Logistic Sergeant Sarten La'Yira replied bringing up a series of data graphs on the nearest computer.

"Who's out there? The Quarians? Why would they want to activate the 314 relay? There's nothing out there but rocks and dust." Kell asked to no one in particular.

"Shall we investigate Commander?" Naia Ki'Sani asked glancing over at her.

"Of course Lieutenant; there's a relay involved. Take us in." Kell said with a smile; she honestly hoped it was something more interesting than a radioactive storm.

* * *

**_- - - Sol-system Government's National Space Coalition _battleship_ – Red Jackal_**

"Larson, any ideas?" Commander Matheson asked his company champion, who strode over upon hearing his name; he stared at the pic-screen.

The object in question was massive, nearly fifteen times the length of the _Red Jackal_, and pointed off into deep space like a lone sentinel of some dead civilization; always ready, always waiting for a command that will never come.

"It's not a ship, it's not a station, and it's not a weapon. De'val kor Se'sai… scans would imply it's highly radioactive and emitting small doses of tachyon partials, among other things. My Lord, in my professional opinion, I believe this to be an inactive Gate." Larson said nodding in fair certainty.

"I concur; now, shall we dispose of it?" Commander Matheson said; although everyone knew he was grinning by the way he had spoken none could be sure what kind of expression was beneath the black death mask.

"Target that thing and turn it to slag." Commander Matheson said pointing at the pic-screen. Twelve weapon batteries, twenty-four barrels, rotated with all haste to target the Gate; they locked, cycled munitions, and waited.

"My Lord, ready to unleash eight hundred millimeters of Hell." Gunnery Sergeant Karxon said looking over at him. Commander Matheson had always envied the man's skill with a ship born weapon system and his mask reflected his skills, beautifully complex etchings of weapons and ammunition, battles and death, covered every inch of his midnight blue mask.

"By all means Gunnery Sergeant." Commander Matheson said with a nod.

"Your will be done." Gunnery Sergeant Karxon said depressing a button with a sick grin.

In perfect sync with each other all twelve weapon batteries released their firing mechanisms. The _Red Jackal_ shook as the vibrations of twenty-four plasma tipped sabot rounds were projected forth at speeds exceeding twenty-five hundred kilometers a second. The _Red Jackal_ was just under seventeen kilometers away. The high velocity rounds, each the size of a child, took only a handful of seconds to reach their target. The devastation wrought by the white hot munitions was instantaneous and complete; the Gate wouldn't last an hour.

* * *

**_- - - Asari Republic Fleet scout cruiser – Quiet Verity_**

First Lieutenant Naia Ki'Sani gawked in shock as the scene before her became apparent. A ship, that could _almost_ be classified a dreadnought, was laying siege to Relay 314. Rounds punched straight through the Mass Relay and out the other side; Naia has heard of heard of armor piercing but this was ridiculous. Delicate, irreplaceable technology was being blasted to ash with every volley and Naia was helpless to stop it. Their ship, the _Quiet Verity_, was a scout cruiser designed for maneuverability and stealth and that monstrous beast was a vessel dedicated absolutely to destruction. As much as Naia hated to admit it she was silently thankful that those massive cannons weren't currently aimed at them.

"Hail that ship! Ask them to stop; beg if you have to!" Kell yelled in terror pointing at the screen; she didn't even want to begin to imagine the after effects of destroying a Mass Relay, total destruction on a scale too large to fathom.

"Ma'am, their weapons have stopped firing!" Sarten called out and, sure enough, the guns had gone quiet.

"Ah, Commander? They're hailing us, video link."

"Accept it, put them on screen." Kell said straightening her uniform.

The video blinked into life but there was nothing but darkness. Commander Kell was about to demand an explanation from her comms officer when a whisper echoed from the speakers; one word, just one, and though Naia didn't understand the language the hostile, almost disgusted tone struck Naia at the heart of her being.

_"Alien."_

"They're locking!" The Master Gunner called out as a figure loomed out of the darkness.

He was the living embodiment of his ship, equally massive and just as intimidating. He wore a full body suit of midnight blue armor with gold lettering around his right shoulder guard and a mask as dark as space itself. He crossed his arms, thick gauntlets studded with small barbs clanked against each other, over his chest and growled deep, threateningly.

"I- Sir, I am Commander Kell S'Thus of the scout cruiser _Quiet Verity_ of the Asari Republic Military. I respectfully request that you belay any and all commands to damage or destroy that Mass Relay."

The masked man stared at them for a moment before glancing away and giving a quick nod to someone off screen. He let out a breath and cocked his head to the side slightly.

"I don't know what you're saying." The man said shaking his head.

"What did he say?" Kell asked looking over at Naia who shrugged.

"Great, not only are they hostile but now we have a language barrier to make them paranoid." Kell said with a sigh. Then an idea came to her, "No, no it's too simple. Sargent Sarten, pass me your flashlight."

"What? Commander-"

"Just do it!" Kell demanded and waited for the Logistics Sergeant to toss her flashlight. Kell caught it and held it up light end to the screen and began flashing it at the screen.

"Standard Distress Code? Does anyone use that anymore?" Naia asked with a raised eyebrow.

* * *

**_- - - SGNSC battleship – Red Jackal_**

"You've got to be shitting me." Larson said with a laugh. "Is that… Morse code?"

"Looks like it. Well, this is primitive alright. I can't remember the last time I used it. Larson, I know you know it, what are they saying?" Commander Matheson said waving his hand.

Larson sidestepped into view of the camera as Matheson moved out of the way and watched the alien ship Commander strobe her little flashlight at them.

"I have… no fucking clue." Larson said after a moment and looked to Matheson, "There are no words; it's just a splurge of letters and numbers."

"Why am I not surprised in the slightest?" Matheson said with a grin.

"Probably because their alphabet is completely different from ours?" Larson said throwing his hands up in sarcasm, "It makes so much sense now!"

"Ready the Fighters and a ship tug. I want all but one pod turned to ash. We haven't interrogated a Fesch in quite a while." Matheson said stifling a laugh and a chorus of affirmatives greeted him.

"Stream it live over the Core and call it a morale boosting exercise." Larson suggested and though he laughed he was being completely serious. "It'll be the most popular video in _Red Jackal _history, perhaps even in Leviathan Fleet history."

"Then we would be derelict in out duties if we did _not_ make it." Commander Matheson said with a smile. "Gunnery Sergeant? You may proceed."

* * *

**_- - - Asari Republic Fleet scout cruiser – Quiet Verity_**

Naia looked at the screen and for a moment thought that the enemy ship was flashing dozens of lights at them. Her brain realized what was about to happen before she could react. Those were flashes of cannon fire, cannon fire being directed at them, at their ship. The aliens had opened fire.

"What are they-" Commander Kell wasn't able to finish her sentence. A massive explosion ripped through the _Quiet Verity_ and rocked the ship throwing her off balance.

Naia reached out and grabbed onto a railing to keep her footing, "They've opened fire!?" Naia was bewildered by the decision. Where was the miscommunication? What did they do wrong?

"Our barriers repelled most of it but a round got through. Engines have taken a hit…" Sergeant Sarten said as she listened to their report, her eyes widened slightly, "we're dead in the water."

"Return fire! I want all batteries firing _now!_" Kell yelled as her command staff scurried about the bridge. "How did one round take out our engines?"

"I don't know commander, but engineering is reporting a massive spike in radiation." Sarten said quickly.

Naia ran to her Commander's side and began issuing commands to different parts of the ship. Engineering was working desperately to repair the damages but their initial estimates were depressing. Gunnery was targeting the ship with the broadsides but they weren't fast enough, Kell hadn't order them to lock on, they were caught off guard. Naia noticed another glimmer on the screen.

"Incoming!"

A second volley pounded into the _Quiet Verity_. The barriers shimmered, died, and half of the rounds impacted the hull unopposed. An alarm went off indicating dangerous levels of radiation. Naia grit her teeth, these weren't like the armor penetrating rounds that had been used on Relay 314. These were nuclear tipped warheads that were atomizing the _Quiet Verity's_ hull in great swaths.

"Commander, we have to abandon ship!" Sarten yelled over the commotion, "We won't last another few volleys."

"Commander I concur, they're fired twice and we're not even locked on yet." Naia pressed.

Kell was clearly distraught but she couldn't deny the fact that the enemy ship was simply more powerful. The _Quiet Verity_ is only a cruiser, a _scout_ cruiser, and that behemoth of a ship is borderline dreadnought status. They can't win, they can't even run, they can only die or evacuate.

"Do it, sound general alarm. Get everyone off safely, and scuttle the old girl."

* * *

**_- - - SGNSC battleship – Red Jackal_**

"Commander, life boats detected." An ensign said looking up.

"Excellent, it took them a few shots but they figured out they didn't stand a chance in Hell. Don't stop firing Gunnery Sergeant, but take your time. They'll probably self-destruct to keep us from getting to their _oh so precious technology_." Matheson said with a laugh. "Send out the fighters."

* * *

**_- - - SGNSC Vyper class fighter – Desolate Six_**

_Desolate Six_ exploded out of the _Red Jackal's_ small fighter bay, only one squadron, fifteen Vyper class fighters, accompanied the massive beast of a vessel into war. The fighter entered a long, high arc with his brothers and sisters as they soared 'over' the battlefield, surveying the scene and arguing over targets.

"Dibs on left." _Desolate Nine_ said over the comms.

"You're left or mine?" _Desolate Ten _asked, he looked over and saw that ten was flying sideways. Well, clarification was indeed required, he though with a smile.

"Obviously my left."

_Desolate Six_ ignored the rest of the twins conversation and focused instead on the fleeing pods and their dispersal. All were headed either away or parallel the _Red Jackal_ but none directly opposite of. It was suspicious and he made a point to see if anything was behind the alien ship just out of visual and scan range.

There was no order to the fighters decent upon the helpless pods. This was a slaughter and would be treated like one. Safeties were off, hate was loaded, and rage was allowed to run rampant.

He heard whoops and shouts as pods died under hails of high caliber fire but he didn't find pleasure in this, there was no sport in killing escape pods. However, just as the thought passed through his mind he released a salvo of his 30mm autocannon, shredding a pod to scrap, and flew through the wreckage. Just for the laughs. Bits of metal dinged off his hull and some purple liquid splashed against the upper right of his cockpit view port. He groaned that part of his view was obstructed but since he didn't expect to be fired upon he ignored it.

Suddenly the alien vessel detonated as the _Red Jackal's_ guns opened up on the small cruiser. His cockpit auto-tinted to shield him from the light and his fighter rocked slightly under the shockwave. He looked over to watch the vessel die and smiled under his plain white mask. Then his scanner beeped at him and he looked down, it had detected a pod far off in the distance. He gunned his engines.

"Hunter One, Desolate Six, I've found a lone pod. It's headed opposite the _Red Jackal_, unlike the others." He said making a long arc to intercept and glanced out the side ports to his fellow fighters who were all busy with their own targets. "I think it's the Command staff of this Fesch ship."

"Desolate Six, Hunter One, capture that pod immediately!" The voice was very insistent and sounded like the Commander.

"Yes Sir, capture not kill." He responded as he gunned his fighter to full speed.

* * *

**_- - - Asari Republic Fleet escape pod – Alpha One_**

Commander Kell, Naia, and Sarten sat in the cramped escape pod with five others. They watched through the small view ports as the _Quiet Verity _grew ever distant.

"Shit! We have incoming!" Their pilot said as she banked the pod hard.

Naia caught a glimpse of something sleek and dark blue zip by them at high speeds. She held onto her harness for dear life and prayed that the enemy fighters didn't get a bead on them.

"He's circling us." The pilot whispered and suddenly killed the engine.

"What are you doing?" Kell asked in angrily, though her fear was overwhelming her.

"I'm a pilot of a hundred and thirty years Ma'am. I know when I'm being given the chance to surrender." The pilot said as the fighter cranked hard sideways performing a kind of drift as it flared its back right maneuverability thrusters and rotated to face them. It drifted close and came within meters of them; they were so close Naia could even see movement from behind the dark tinted glass of the cockpit. A small red light blinked on as the fighter's weapons locked onto their pod… but he didn't fire.

"See, told you." The pilot said with a relieved sigh.

A bright light lit up the rear of the pod as it flooded in through the back view ports. Naia turned to see the _Quiet Verity_ become engulfed in a massive fireball. Other, smaller, explosions filled the space around the dead cruiser. Other life pods were being snuffed out.

"They're killing them." Naia said softly as her eyes were drawn to a small gleam coming from behind their shuttle. "What's that?"

"We have incoming. Looks like a shuttle of some kind." The pilot said getting up and moving to the back to get a better look.

As the ship came into view Naia noticed it was indeed a shuttle but as it continued to close on them four massive arms extended from its sides and reached out to them. As the tendril-like claws opened wide they clamped down on the escape pod with a magnetized whine. The shuttle began towing them.

"We're all fucked, you know that right?" Sarten said softly.

An Asari deck officer strapped in next to her set a hand on her knee and tried to reassure her, "It'll be alright. It's just a misunderstanding, that's all." The officer said with a false smile, it didn't fool Sarten.

"Hope and pray." Commander Kell said softly as the massive ship loomed over them.

One row of monstrous, quad-barreled gun systems dominated the entire side of the ship while dozens of smaller point defense batteries poked out like fingers into the void. A long section of hull split open horizontally spilling bright light out into space and Naia watched as fighters zipped by them and into the light. That was their destination; that was where they would be able to settle this whole mess out.

_It was all just a misunderstanding._

_It had to be._


	2. Incident II

**No Good Deed**

By: Absolute Edge

Incident II

* * *

**Hostile**

* * *

_**- - - Asari Republic Fleet escape pod – Alpha One**_

"We're in, now what?" Naia asked as the pod was set down inside the massive ship's bay.

"I'll go look." The pilot said making her past them all to the escape pods rear exit and looking out the small viewport.

Suddenly she jumped back in surprise as a loud bang echoed throughout the small pod. There was something slapped up against the view port. It was a small pink brick.

"Get ba-" The pilot's warning was cut short as an explosion rocked the pod.

The door, the pilot, and the closest two seats were engulfed in fire. Naia threw herself to the ground along with the others as white hot bits of metal zipped by overhead. She heard someone cry out and glanced up, an Asari she didn't recognize was clutching her thigh and the little girl next to her had started crying, Naia crawled over the others to reach her as a shadow fell over them. Naia ignored the newcomer and pulled off her belt and wrapped it around the girls leg just a few inches above the wound. She pulled tight the makeshift tourniquet and was rewarded for her efforts by a slowing of blood from around the shard of metal.

Naia looked up to see what had become of the pilot and saw she had been obliterated from the waist up. Her lower body was lying in the molten pool of her own torso. The plasma charge had liquidated everything it touched. The figure in the doorway became apparent as it shouldered its way into the confined spaces.

The dark blue monster was shrouded in massively thick plate armor dotted in barbs, hooks, and vicious looking spikes. It was hard to see the figure clearly though as her vision was obstructed by a shimmering field that danced over the armor. However, Naia's eyes were drawn to the huge cannon in its hands.

"_Stay down!"_ It bellowed as it advanced, jerking its large weapon back and forth.

Naia had no idea what it was saying but decided it best to take a non-threatening position. She got on her knees and slowly put her hands behind her head in the standard surrender posture. The others followed suit, all but the child and her wounded mother.

"_Close enough."_ It whispered kicking the pilots body aside. Two more appeared, though wearing less heavily armored suits and wielding short barreled rifles, and flanked the monster.

"_Champ's a'comin. They- oh _fuck_ they're ugly… Are they down?"_ One said to the heavily armored monster, he seemed uneasy.

"_Seems like it. Let's get them out."_

"_Get up! Get up you filthy Fesch! Get the FUCK_ UP!" One yelled jabbing its weapon at them.

Naia was confused, she didn't know what was being said, she glanced over her shoulder at her commander but she only shrugged.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what-" Commander Kell was cut off as a rifle butt stock cracked into her face.

"_I didn't say talk you fucking Fesch! I SAID GET UP!"_ The man yelled dipping his rifle and lifting it up again a few times. _"Are you all fucking stupid?"_

Naia watched his rifle and took a guess by slowly standing up, everyone followed her example. She prayed silently that he wouldn't shoot her but as he let out a victorious hoot she relaxed a little.

"_Holy fucking shit this one's not a complete retard." _The smaller one said with a laugh and turned to leave. _"It's a motherfucking miracle."_

The monster stood to one side and motioned with his large weapon for them to leave. Naia walked towards the exit cautiously watching the massive figure. Everyone followed slowly, waiting to be blasted to ribbons by the monster and his cannon.

Naia emerged from the pod and stepped onto an angled stand that had been pushed up against the pod. Dozens of figures were moving about the hanger performing the various tasks that aircraft required to remain functional. Armament teams, munitions loaders, welding crews, equipment testers, and dozens and dozens of others were swarming over the slick fighters that had obliterated the escape pods.

She realized everyone was wearing masks. Just as this became apparent she noticed the man standing in front of a dozen black masked soldiers waiting for her to descend. His mask was a dark blue with a vicious looking snarl printed on it. He looked important. Hopefully Naia could speak with the man and make clear any confusion they had.

* * *

_**- - - Sol-system Government's National Space Coalition **_**battleship**_** – Red Jackal**_

Larson smiled as the blue aliens were herded into a small circle at the base of the pod. A total of three soldiers garbed in the rare and valuable Juggernaut armor had formed up around the aliens along with a dozen of his finest soldiers. He smiled at the Juggernauts, he had managed to get his hands on three of the rare and valuable suits. Juggernaut armor was thick plated with a built in MS 'ZH' barrier to make them nigh unstoppable opponents in the confined spaces of spaceships and their Scourge shotguns were nothing to laugh at either.

He spied an injured Fesch, hit in the leg by a shard of metal, and smiled. _Time to set some ground rules._ Larson walked into the circle of soldiers encasing the aliens and pointed at the wounded alien, he then snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor before him. She didn't move. Larson drew his pistol and performed the action again. The alien figured it out and limped over to him, a little one began crying and moved to follow but another alien grabbed the child and held her back.

The limping alien collapsed on her bad leg and only made it half way to him. Larson growled and advanced with his pistol in hand. The two soldiers he had spoken to earlier followed him with weapons raised.

"Thus ai!" One of the aliens called out to the injured one. "N'aiellu'mai! Mi'ia' thus ai!"

Larson halted a step from the wounded alien and stared at it intently. She looked up at him with tired, pained eyes and offered up a hand. She expected him to help her up. Larson instead crouched down to her level and cocked his head to one side as he examined her. She let her hand fall to her injured leg and gasped softly in pain, Larson looked to her leg and back up to her.

"Aeoill'ai, lan'ulle lapea'ulle?" She asked softly.

"I don't know what you're saying." Larson lifted his large pistol and planted it against her head and fired. The alien's body kicked out to the side as half of her head turned to a purple mist.

"_N'maieolo'ya!_" The little one escaped her captors and ran to her mother's body.

Larson held up a fist as the two guards beside him whipped up their rifles at the girl. Larson grabbed the girl as she came within reach and held her still in front of him. She pushed at his grip and cried a string of words he didn't quite catch.

"Shush little one, calm down." Larson whispered as he brushed her tears away with a gloved hand. "Come."

Larson stood and turned the girl around and walked with her to the group of Fesch staring with gaping mouths. There was a sound behind him and in a quick glance he noted that two men had stepped forth from the ranks of soldiers to drag the body away, probably to be dissected by the ranking medical officer. He stopped with the child just a few meters away and set the barrel of his pistol down on the girls shoulder. He looked at them each in turn, finding himself all the more disgusted as he examined them. Their flesh various shades of blue, one was almost purple, indicated the most blatant difference between them. They didn't have hair but instead a dozen or so tentacles that grew from their heads, Larson was curious to know if they could move them or if they sat still like Human hair. They were also all female, a bizarre note but not one that Larson cared all that much about. One caught his eye and he turned to her. She had her mouth locked shut with her teeth barred and her fists clenched. She was angry, and he smiled.

"I know you don't understand me," Larson began as he placed his other hand on the little girls head and began petting her like an animal, "so I can only hope that you understand the tone I'm using. You are all filth. Lower than low. Worth less then the dirt on the bottom of my boot. You don't even deserve a round from my pistol, she was lucky, if it was up to my I'd have you all spaced."

Larson looked down to the little one who was scared stiff and then back up to the group cowering before him, well… all but the angry one. He made a point to interrogate her personally. He wanted her to try something, he really, really wanted her to attack him. However, she didn't budge.

Larson scoffed his disappointment and picked up the child, cradling her in the nook of his left arm. Larson grinned and waved a hand at the group of blue freaks, "Take them away, and if they resist, well, boys will be boys."

* * *

**Author's note:** A little short and a bit less entertaining then I had intended but it's getting there. Oh, and Commander Karak of the Turian Dreadnought _Thessius_ will be coming back to blow up the _Red Jackal,_ as per the original story, but I've decided to have him be captured and tortured instead of blasted to ash in space. My wife couldn't finish the rough draft of it, said it was too dark for her, which means I'm doing something right. Stay tuned. =P


	3. Incident III

**No Good Deed**

By: Absolute Edge

Incident III

* * *

**Cruelty**

* * *

_**- - - Sol-system Government's National Space Coalition **_**battleship**_** – Red Jackal**_

Larson walked with the little alien girl in his arm. She was petrified and had turned her whole body in to his chest with her eyes closed tight; she whimpered like a wounded pup on occasion but was otherwise silent. He honestly didn't know what to do with the little Fesch and was wondering why he had taken her in the first- oh, disregard. Larson smiled and chuckled under his mask as he realized why he had taken her away from the others. It was to continue pissing off that one angry blue fuck.

A pleasant chill crept up his spine sending the hair on the back of his neck on edge as he imagined the bitch wrapped up tight and forced to watch the little one suffer. The thought drew his attention to the terrified child clinging to his armor with wet cheeks and a quivering lower lip.

Or... perhaps he should give the little on as a gift to his sister, Larson thought with a sick smile. It would be for his amusement more than as an actual gift knowing his sister's history of miscarriages. One had sent her into a dark depression with her only friends a bottle of pills and a fifth of Vodka. Two had her trying to off herself but her pistol had jammed, twice. She figured it a sign to try for a kid one last time. Nope, third time's not the charm apparently. She killed her boyfriend after that one, became cold, heartless, and incredibly focused. Two months later she became Champion of the _Final Solution_ by cutting the throat of the old one, poor bastard.

_Fucking bitch_

Larson laughed aloud as he imagined the scene that would play out if he went through with it. The young girl whimpered and pressed herself down into the nook of his arm as if she knew what he was thinking, it made Larson laugh more. He passed a few armor clad figures in the hall, maintainers by the look of their grey splattered masks, and pointed and the little one clinging to him.

"Look at the little blue alien! Hah, it's fucking _adorable_!" One said with a laugh, she was being serious.

"Watch out Champ, soon enough it'll be calling you daddy."

"Damn right it will!" Larson laughed with them and waved them off as he continued down the hall to the elevator but the thought got stuck in his head. As Larson waited for the elevator he stared at the Fesch child who had since fallen asleep in his arm, probably out of exhaustion from crying… or something, Larson didn't know too much about children, especially alien children.

What if he let her survive past today? What if she grew up believing he was her father?

Larson shivered in fascination. Talk about the biggest _'fuck you'_ to their entire species. The temptation to follow through with that idea was strong... but he set the thought aside to be reviewed later, after all was said and done today.

The doors opened to a long and fairly dark hallway where a familiar mask awaited him

"Son." Commander Matheson said with a nod.

"Commander, no bars and stars following you around I see." Larson said stepping closer and receiving a respectful slap on the shoulder which he returned gratefully.

"Gave them the slip, ah," Matheson noticed the little Fesch in his Champion's arm, "I heard you snuck off with one, SecFo wasn't too happy apparently."

Matheson let his arm fall and leaned in to get a better look. "Well... It's cute... I guess."

"Almost Human, eh?"

"The psychotics came up with _mere-kin_, something about physical and psychological similarities." Matheson said leaning back and flicking a hand signaling for him to follow.

"That's a lot easier to say in conversation but I still prefer Fesch, its traditional." Larson said with a shrug. "History in the making right here, got go over everything."

"Speaking of history in the making, I've got the paperwork switching hands to get a Mark started for these Fesch. Everyone's pretty excited to get back on the war path; too much inactivity."

"Deval kor Se'sai, we're soldiers sir, war is what we do best." Larson said definitely as he kept in step with his Commander. "Without war we go from sanctioned murderers into psychologically insane serial killers who'll never fit into any society except the Military.

"Indeed, now down to business." Matheson said glancing back at the little alien child. "As much as I'd hate to keep one or two alive... Leviathan Fleet Command is requesting Intel on these blue freaks."

"Fuck, I know exactly where this is going."

"You guessed it, learn one the language."

"I have this feeling I'll be the one doing the teaching, huh?"

"A-firm son."

Larson groaned loudly. The child stirred but didn't wake. Larson adjusted his arm to try and make the child more comfortable but it happened subconsciously as maternal instinct kicked in, he didn't even notice he'd moved.

"It's because I'm your Champion isn't it?"

"You're the only '_trained diplomat_,'" Matheson had raised his hands slightly with his index and middle fingers extended and curling them in to make sarcastic quotes around the phrase, "so you're just going to have to deal with it."

"How do you expect me to teach a fucking Fesch a new language?"

"I don't know, no one's ever had to do it because no one's ever given a _fuck_ back in the day. Plans were simple twenty years ago: find them and kill everything. Now it's all about plans within plans within plans." Matheson said with a sigh as he remembered better, more entertaining times.

"Maybe the bioengineers could whip up a translator if they got their hands on the shuttle? Fuck Fesch tech and all but if Fleet command wants to know tac shit we don't have much of a choice."

"They've already been informed along with the cog heads and psychotics, getting them all to work together on this."

"That's a first. I thought the cogs hated the flesh eaters?" Larson asked.

"They do, but I told them that failure was determined by how long it took them. I also reminded them how unforgiving SGNSC Command is." Matheson said with a chuckle.

"Oh hey, what cell is my Fesch in? I'm going to pay her a visit with the little one, piss her off and stuff." Larson said tracing a finger along one of the child's head tentacles. She made a soft noise and turned her head away.

"Sounds like a plan; cell block two, interrogation cell one."

"Oh I _love_ cell one, it always has the best toys." Larson said happily.

"I know you do, that's why I had it put there."

"Thank you sir, _your kindness is legendary_." Larson said with a smile and mock bow.

"We'll see about that." Matheson said with a laugh, "Now go do whatever it is you're going to do."

"Yes sir, you have a good one." Larson said waving his Commander goodbye while continuing down the dark hallway as the Commander vanished down a side corridor.

Larson released a breath and shook his head as he made his way to cell one. He passed teams of roaming security forces members and a few higher ranking individuals being followed around by body guards. He nodded to them and they nodded back - at least the regular soldiers did - but got a few blank masks from the higher ups. They were probably staring at the alien child in his arms. Larson didn't really care what they thought though, he's the _Red Jackal_ Champion and he only answers to Ship Commander Matheson.

There was a guard standing out front and leaning up against the wall by the door with his snub nosed carbine strapped across his armored chest. His mask, flat black with crimson lines crisscrossing at hard angles, turned in Larson's direction. He pushed himself off and pounded on the door as Larson approached. A small slit opened up and closed quickly before the door slid open. Another security member, a female, peeked her head out but as she saw Larson she stepped out of the way.

"Sir, ma'am." Larson said politely as he passed them.

They nodded but said nothing but since security forces members rarely speak the lack of a response didn't spark Larson's interest. The man went back to leaning up against the wall as the female slid the door closed.

The room was simple with four walls, a one-way observation window, a wall mounted computer, and a few chairs. Larson walked over to the computer and depressed a button, the lights flicked alive in the interrogation room beyond the window.

* * *

_**- - - SGNSC Red Jackal**_** – Interrogation Cell 1**

Naia jumped as the lights were suddenly turned on; a dull white that made the rusty walls appear even more dirty. The room was disgusting and made her skin crawl. A steel grate floor that led to a drainage system for what Naia could only assume to be a runoff for bodily fluids.

Her wrists were bound by thick leather attached to chains which pulled her arms out and up to either side. She had been forced to stand up for hours on end with no chance of relief. Her knees were quivering and her body weight was taking its toll on her strained wrists. They had been rubbed raw and with the weight pulling against them they had cracked open. A thin trail of blood trickled down the undersides of both her arms and pooled at her elbows where they dripped to the floor.

Her feet hurt too; they had taken her shoes and socks leaving her bare feet to hold herself up. They were worn down and cut from the pressure of standing on the thin metal grating for so long. Naia could feel her blood seeping from the small tears in her delicate flesh and wondered, for a moment, just where the drains led but quickly realized that she didn't want to know, _ever_.

A cool breeze rolled across Naia's naked flesh giving her goose bumps and making her shiver. She lifted her head and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and looked away quickly. She had never been a fan of her own body, not that there was anything wrong with it. She knows her body is desirable, her partners have told her as much, but just being so exposed made her extremely self-conscious, even when alone.

There was a loud bang as something struck the door besides the mirror, it made Naia jump in surprise. The heavy metal door swung open and an individual in dark blue armor, which seems to be the favored color for these aliens, stepped into the room. Though the room be lit his figure remained a little obscure, out of focus as it were, as if he was wearing the shadows as a cloak. He was truly an imposing figure, Naia was almost standing at full height, though just an average five foot five inches, and the man loomed over her even from across the room. Naia was terrified beyond words but tried to compose herself by at least standing up straight and looking the man in the eye... or mask that they _all seemed to wear._

He stepped into the light and the second it pooled over him Naia realized he was holding Nesa's daughter, little Aeres. Naia clenched her teeth and her muscles tensed in anger. It was the same man who had just up and murdered the girl, Naia recognized his outfit and that vicious snarl etched into his flat blue mask, and why? To make an example of her? As a show of force? Because she was wounded? _For fun?_ The thought that a person who was part of a civilized military, not just a part of but a commander of sorts, killing for the sake of killing made Naia blind with rage.

She thrashed against her bonds and was about to throw a kick when the man swiftly stepped closer and backhanded Naia in the jaw. Her head snapped to the side, the tendons in her neck twisted sharply, the nerve endings flared white hot, and the flesh split open along her jaw sending blood across the room. Naia yelped as she lost her footing and fell sideways, her bound wrists suspending her fall and tearing open further. She scrambled to her feet, her head swimming in pain, her neck throbbing, and now her wrists were bleeding again. Her right eye had moistened up and she blinked away the tears as she straightened up in front of the man.

He pointed at little Aeres in his hand and held a finger up to his mask, _be silent_. Naia bit back a snarl and grit her teeth in obedience, at least for the child's sake, but still clenched her fists in rage as the man walked back into the darkness only to come back with a chair. He positioned it in front of Naia and sat down in it, leaning back casually with a leg propped up on a knee, and slowly caressed Aeres's crests as if she was an animal.

"Almost woke a sleeping child," He tutted softly and slowly shook his head, "I guess you filthy Fesch don't have much in the way of maternal instincts."

The words slipped right over Naia's head as they flowed from behind that mask, that fucking grin. Naia wanted to rage. To spit vile curses and remarks, to simply let loose, but if she did then Aeres would wake up and Naia didn't want the little one to see her… not like this. And who knows what he would do?

"Anyways, my people want to know about your… _people_." He shuddered, "So, you've received the honor of not only being allowed to live, for now, but to also learn our language so we might learn all your dirty little secrets." The man said, still petting Aeres, and cocked his head to one side, "But right now… you have no _fucking_ idea what I'm saying do you?"

Naia frowned but didn't reply, the splurge of sound coming from the man made no sense to her. She shifted her weight in unease, she wanted to respond but the man wouldn't understand her either…

"Teo?" Naia asked softly. "Teo se'illiu sia ka'ul vi'ie?

The man listened but only shook his head and laughed, "Points for trying I guess. At least your language sounds nice. I was afraid it'd be a bunch of clicks and shit; would have to cut your tongue out if it was." He stood up and took the one step needed to become unnecessarily close to Naia. "But here, let me help you learn my language."

"This…" The man dipped to the right and pulled a long dagger from the sheath on his calf and held it up for Naia to see. "Is a knife. _Kniiife._ Say it. Knife."

"N'ehe… n'eh- mm, nief? Niefe?"

"Close enough." The man said turning it over in his hand and showing it off. "Now this…" The man brought the dagger closer and pressed the blade against her throat. Naia flinched and looked away trying to keep her head away from the blade. It felt cool against her skin and Naia began to tear up as she waited for the blade to bite deep into her throat, severing tendons, arteries, and nerves. A sharp stinging sensation jolted up her neck as the man yanked it across her throat, however it was a small gash, there was only a slight trickle of blood. "This is a cut. _Cut_."

Naia killed the cry in her throat and instead released a terrified breath that came out as a soft hiss. She had thought the man was about to slice her throat, but instead gave her a small cut, she blinked back tears as she tried to repeat their word for cut. "N'ill, khaht… kh- khut."

"Very good… you're a quick learner for a blue skinned freak." The man looked at the purple blood on his blade. Naia wondered what he was thinking and frowned that he hid away his facial features, preventing her from reading his emotions. He looked back to her and slowly wiped the blade off on her cheek causing a small shiver to crawl up her spine.

Suddenly a red light began flashing in the corner of the room which was quickly followed by a blaring klaxon. "Well, either that's Fleet Leviathan showing up unannounced… or _something_ is coming out of a jump."

The man cocked his head to one side and Naia could hear muffled voices. "Really? Alright, that's a first… Okay… You want me to-… Oh okay, makes sense... Alright sounds good, see you in five."

The man turned and walked into the darkness, Naia heard a faint click and suddenly the entire room was flooded with bright light. She blinked and rubbed her eyes- her hands were free. _Her hands are free._ Naia looked at them, her wrists bruised, swollen, and bleeding slowly. The man came back and handed her Aeres who stirred as she swapped hands. Naia was confused and held the child tightly to her chest, her arms wrapped around her as if they could protect her from anything.

"I have a feeling you won't be trying anything foolish with one of your own children in your arms." The man said walking to the door and opening it. "Follow." He gestured with a hand and Naia took a shaky step and caught herself from falling, the cuts on the bottom of her feet had taken their toll.

Though her situation precarious Naia was thankful for a few things: first and foremost knowing little Aeres is alive and well, the second was that she herself was still alive, and thirdly she was leaving that cell… She could only hope and pray to the Goddess that everything was turning around for the better.

Naia followed the man to the bridge with Aeres in hand; the girl had woken from her nap and Naia had been doing everything to keep her calm. The little one had her face buried in Naia's shoulder, hiding from the world and Naia couldn't blame her. She had been ripped from her mother by a sick race of psychotic murderers; or, at least, by the one in front of her.

The cool air reminded Naia that she was still bare fleshed. She began to shiver; her jaw quivered causing her teeth to click together. The ice cold floor stung the wounds on her feet but she held onto the belief that should she slip and fall or slow in pace the man wouldn't hesitate to put a round in her head. It put a little pep in her step even as her feet screamed in protest.

They passed an Asari Naia didn't recognize, also naked but her body was covered in plump bruises from a resent beating. Her arms and wrists bound behind her back with leather straps, her ankles chained so close together that her toes dragged as she walked. There was blood crusting around her bonds, Naia guessed they had become infected from being too tight and probably never being sterilized. Naia wondered just how much the girl had resisted as she took a glance at her wounds. Her left eye was so swollen that she couldn't even open it and her nose looked like it might be broken. There was more but she was pushed out of Naia's line of sight by a man garbed in a black suit with a blood stained leather apron and wielding a dual pronged metal stick that sparked as it brushed against the floor. The last image she saw was of the girl's back, long tears in the flesh traveling mostly vertical, red with pain and seeping blood. She had been brutally lashed and Naia looked away with a shudder… that could've been her.

Naia was gracious for her lack of injury but had this sensation creeping from the back of her mind that she was about to be used for more than a simple torture doll, like everyone else it would seem, though she was still thankful she had been picked. It disturbed her on a level deeper than expected. She believed herself the kind of person who wouldn't hesitate to help another and yet she wouldn't switch places with any of the others even if was given the option... perhaps actually being in such a terrible situation has started bringing out her darker side.

_This isn't like me..._

She pushed the thoughts aside and focused on keeping up with the man and ignoring the stares, jeers, and laughs from those they passed. Naia felt disgusted with herself but she couldn't leave Aeres with that man... _that monster_.

They entered an elevator and Naia stood in a corner and noted that her feet had started bleeding again. Small, partial footprints could be seen as far back as the corner they'd rounded. She curled and relaxed her toes in the blood beneath them and sighed softly as she realized how unsterile the floor must be, infectious bacteria everywhere.

The man leaned up against the wall and stared at her with his arms crossed. It began to creep Naia out and she angled herself away slightly and looked at the elevator doors instead.

"You know," the man began leaning in slightly, "besides being blue with the freaky head thing going on, you're..." He growled deep, threateningly and cocked his head to one side," not half bad."

Naia didn't move, didn't respond, she didn't know what he had just said after all; the man slid along the wall, closer to her. Naia glanced at him and turned her head away more. He got needlessly close, his mask just inches from the back of her head.

"You will only survive for as long as I find you useful." The man said, Naia felt a finger run up her side but resisted the urge to strike him as she felt Aeres stir. She couldn't risk dying and leaving the child to the sick mercy of this freak, "And I'm pretty sure I can find at least one use for you... or three."

Naia was saved by the elevator chiming their arrival. The man leaned away and exited the lift followed quickly by Naia. She didn't understand what he had said but his tone told her enough. He had plans for her, dark and terrible plans that much she was sure, and Naia prayed to the Goddess with all of her being that they wouldn't make any of them suffer for too long. She frowned sadly as she realized it was probably a pipe dream.

Their trip was mostly uneventful after they exited the elevator... well, mostly. They had passed through a security check point where the guards and gone out of their way to harass her. As the man was showing them his identification one of the guards had slipped around and behind Naia without her knowing. She felt his presence before she felt the cold metal of his rifle barrel pressing against her upper back. Her whole body had tensed up, she had expected him to say something but his weapon spoke for him. The muzzle dragged down her spine to her lower back and hesitated just above the crack of her rear. Naia breathed in sharply and closed her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek. The cool metal lifted from her skin and she was shoved forwards. Her eyes shot open in time to catch herself from stumbling into the man. She took a step back and bowed her head away from his gaze; Aeres had started crying lightly and Naia tried to calm her while the stares of faceless masks judged her.

"Nai'en'el ay Aeres, nai'en'el nei n'enae le'lli." Naia whispered to the startled child, thankfully the little on calmed at the words.

"Follow." Naia looked up at the sound, the man was walking through the small security checkpoint, and she eagerly chased after him to escape these people.

* * *

_**- - - SGNSC Red Jackal**_** – Bridge**

"Commander." Larson said stepping up onto the command dais, his Fesch following obediently.

"Lars, there you are!" Matheson said standing up and slapping a hand on his Champions shoulder and holding out a small data chip. "We have a translator of sorts ready for beta testing."

"The cogs and flesh eaters got a prototype working in _eight_ hours?" Larson tilted his head in disbelief.

"I may have tacked on a reward for an expedited completion... a three day dirt pass to whoever finishes first." Matheson said with a shrug.

"Cogs won didn't they?"

"They always do." He offered Larson the chip.

"As excellent as that is," Larson began as he accepted the data chip and inserted it into a sublime card slot on the side of his mask, "I noticed the proximity alert had sounded."

"Ah yes, a small group of Fesch have exited the warp a hundred kilos or so away, they have a capitol with them." Matheson said walking to the railing of the dais and pointing at a screen.

Larson took note that a Fesch with a broken nose was kneeling down besides the command throne, chained to the ground like the animal she was, but that was a small, insignificant detail which Larson forgot about in the next moment he blinked. He turned his attention to the screen where a dozen or so vessels were crowded around a single large ship. Larson thought about their shapes and aesthetics and compared them to the blue Fesch's ship they had destroyed.

"Different ship designs." Larson said, the translator was installing the software into his mask for permanent use. It was adding in command prompts and strings of code to allow the translator to receive from his microphone and play back to his ear bud radio. "Different species."

"Agreed, I've informed Fleet Leviathan, they're the closest."

"They give an ETA?" Larson asked as he opened the translator program with a thought.

"Soon." Matheson turned and went back to his throne where he sat down, he placed a hand on his Fesch pet and stroked her crests.

"I'll give this translator a shot, we'll see how it goes." Larson turned and leaned up against the railing and looked to his Fesch.

She hadn't moved but was looking around in obvious fascination. Larson couldn't figure why, the bridge of the Red Jackal was fairly simple. Four massive pic displays with dozens smaller spread out around them showing the infinite darkness of space, data readouts, and the enemy ships off in the distance. He watched her for a moment; turning and staring at everything around her. Once Larson felt she'd seen enough he snapped his fingers to draw her attention. She looked over but once she realized it was him she averted her gaze.

"Come." Larson said, his mic picked up the sound and the translator worked its magic. The translator spoke softly in a monotone, almost feminine, voice.

Naia looked up with a confused expression and hesitated. She said something, the translator decoded the sound, broke it down, and whispered monotony in Larson's ear. "Did you..."

"Do you understand me or not?" Larson asked slowly so the translator wouldn't have to work too hard but she didn't catch onto his irritated tone because the translator was broadcasting louder than his voice.

"I- yes, yes I do." The translator whispered into Larson's ear after a half second.

"Good, now come here." Larson said pointing at the floor before him.

The Fesch walked over slowly and adjusted her hold on the little one. "Why did you attack us?"

"We'll talk about your people's situation later. For now I need to know if you speak _their_ language." Larson said pointing at the group of ships slowly approaching.

"Turian, yes."

"Well it would seem that you'll be of use to me after all. This is good, for you, it means you get to live." Larson said smiling beneath his mask. Her mouth opened but closed again. "What were you about to say?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." She looked away.

"I don't want to give you the wrong impression but you can't hide anything from me. I can make you talk..." She didn't respond and continued to keep her eyes averted. "Either you talk, or I'll take the little one."

"Okay, okay." She looked back to him with a frown, "I was going to ask what your name was, that's all."

"Larson." He said simply.

"Lieutenant Naia of the... _Quiet Verity_." She said with sad sigh, still she held out a hand.

"After all I've done to you and your people..." Larson shook his head, he sighed softly in bewilderment.

"It's respectful." Naia said firmly still holding her hand out.

"I like that," Larson said taking her hand and shaking it, he squeezed her hand a little, "I think I might keep you."

"Ah, what?" Naia asked but a low tone whooping siren in the background drew their attention.

"You'll find out soon enough, but for now just do what I say when I say it and you won't get hurt... much." Larson said turning away to see what all the fuss was about.

"Incoming video request from the Fesch capitol vessel." An ensign said looking over to Commander Matheson.

"On screen." Matheson said with a wave of his hand.

The four main screens blinked off and faded back to display what Larson could only describe as possibly the most hideous Fesch he's ever seen causing him to actually flinch in disgust. The screens revealed a chest up shot of the suited creature and though all Larson could see was its bare head he found himself greatly disturbed by its appearance. A kind of natural metallic plating covered its face with a set of mandibles that came up to either side of its mouth, though didn't cover it completely. Larson took note of the white war paint the creature, the _Turian_ as Naia called it, wore overtop its metallic plate. As Larson stared at the face paint the only word that came to mind that seemed to accurately describe his feelings towards it was _primitive_. Like a race advanced to space travel but trapped in the annals of tradition… it reminded him of the ancient Te'Nareneti tribe back home and how people still learned their language, like Larson did. He smiled at the comparison but was thankful no one could see it, might've been taken the wrong way.

"T'nier de teh'ahn?" It was clearly a question but Larson's translator came back with an error message.

"What did he say?" Larson asked looking to Naia.

"He wants to know what you are." Naia said looking at the screen. "Can he see us?"

"Not us, just the Commander and his pet."

"Kell S'Thus, her name is Kell S'Thus."

"It won't matter for very long." Larson said cryptically.

"Lars, bring your pet and do some talking with this abomination of nature." Matheson said without trying to disguise his blatant disgust for the creature before him.

"Proceeding." Larson said walking into the cameras line of sight and waving for Naia to follow. "Give the child to that one, Kell or whatever."

Naia moved without a word and quickly gave Kell little Aeres. She rocked back onto her heels and accepted the child with a soft smile. Aeres didn't want to let go but Naia was able to convince her with a quick whisper. Poor thing, keeps trading hands for a few hours at a time, she must be traumatized beyond belief.

Naia sighed and went back to Larson's side, he had been staring at her the whole time. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, with being naked in front of all these aliens, but since they only seemed to want to torment her regardless of her being clothed or not it was helping her cope with her paranoia. It was a little depressing that she was only overcoming her self-loathing because she was surrounded by people who talk to her, down to her, but entirely ignore her nudity. She still felt a little embarrassed but it was going away... and then Larson started talking.

"Get down."

"What-" The hand that wrapped around her throat killed the rest of her sentence.

"Don't talk back to me you filthy fucking cunt." He snarled and forced her down even as she clawed at his grip.

Naia's knees buckled and she collapsed, only his suffocating grip kept her from crashing to the ground. He dropped her the rest of the short distance and watched her gasp for precious oxygen at his feet.

Larson smiled as a chill ran up his spine. He wondered how long it would take the little Fesch to figure out what he wanted out of her. What she was going to provide for him. He rolled his head and cracked his neck pleasantly and tossed the thoughts aside for the time being.

"Stay on your knees like the good little dog you are." Larson reached down and ran a hand over her bizarre head tentacles; a curious thought popped into his head, he took a firm grasp of two of the tentacles and hauled her upright so she was sitting on the back of her heels. Naia yelped in pain as her head was jerked backwards. Her eyes clenched shut with a sole tear slipping from the crack of her slightly swollen right eye, it traveled down her cheek and into her pain-filled, teeth exposed smile. Her cries verified Larson's theory. He might not be able to get the desired response he so greatly enjoys from pulling hair but if this is the reaction he should come to expect from tugging on Naia's tentacles... it just might fulfill his little kink.

"Please let me go!" Naia cried as she grabbed at his wrist and hand, pulling on it to keep as much strain off her crests as possible. "Please, I'll do whatever you want!"

Larson loosened his grip and pressed her head up against his hip where her let her go and brushed his hand back and forth along the side of her head as he whispered soothing sounds as he would to a saddened child. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay. You're a good little Fesch aren't you? My little blue alien whore."

He watched her tend to those absolutely fascinating head crests, flinching as she touched tender sections as her fingers blindly checked for damages. Larson didn't leave even a scratch and smiled proudly, even after years of inactivity his... 'natural' born talents came to the fore to preserve the flesh while wounding the mind even without him knowing. Probably a little tick his father had implemented into his genetic coding before he was born, bravo father, _bravo indeed_.

Larson looked up with an amused, twisted grin, reflecting the one etched onto his mask, at the disgusting waste of biological material gawking at him in obvious horror on the screens.

"You're just this... little bit of shit I can't ignore. Damn you're one ugly motherfucker." Larson looked to Naia and after receiving a blank stare he slowly tilted his head expectantly.

"I-I'm supposed to translate that?" She stared at his mask, her eyes searching for something to lock onto that wasn't the unyielding snarl. She took the hint just as Larson's fingers brushed over one of her crests. "Krav'den jha t'hal t'sel keh dek s'eht Yai tek'teh e'nemek. Daeke krav'den ei ig'heh T'sann'kes'keh."

The Turian flinched at the words and visibly grew angry... or at least Larson thought he was getting angry, it was hard for him to tell with those freakish twitching mandibles. He briefly wondered how painful it would be to remove one.

"T'neir en t'hal? T'neir'n ke'nae nen?" The Turian said angrily.

"He wants to know what's going on." Naia said looking at the floor; she closed her eyes to escape for a moment but Larson's persistent petting continued to pull her back to reality.

"Does he now? Well, telling him might take ages. How about we just... show him." Larson turned to his Commander. "Are you threw with that Fesch?"

"Do what you will, it doesn't entertain me as much as I thought it would." Matheson said in disappointment.

Without another word Larson let go of Naia and walked over to Kell and crouched down in front of her; she scooted back as far as her bonds would allow, absolutely terrified of Larson and Naia wondered what had been done to her to break her spirits so easily.

Larson removed her bonds and helped her up slowly. Kell's legs were shaking, Larson had to help her walk. He brought the unharmed, though mentally destroyed ex-commander, over beside Naia.

"Take the little one." Larson said to Naia, she stood and placed her hands on the child.

Kell gasped softly and started crying as Naia removed Aeres from her arms. She tried to give her superior an apologetic smile but was overcome with a sense of relief. Larson had been using Aeres as leverage against them so by having Naia take the child it meant she was in the clear from his hate for the time being. However, what that meant for Kell...

The moment the child traded hands Larson took a firm grip on the back of Kell's head and forced her onto her knees in front of him. Naia took an instinctive step back as she feared violence was about to take place.

Kell cried out in pain and held out her hands to keep from face planting into the steel deck. Larson laughed softly and looked up at the Turian and tilted his head.

"This is what we're doing... and this is what we're going to do to you as well." Larson yanked Kell up as Naia began translating and drew his combat dagger.

"There is no reasoning with them," Kell muttered, Larson looked at her, Naia began translating it, "no negotiating with them. We're all going to die."

Larson pulled her head back exposing her throat and jammed his blade into the side of her neck, slipping all ten centimeters down to the hilt. Kell tried to scream but only gurgled purple blood. Her hands thrashed, her head twitched, blood shot from around the blade drenching Larson's arm in warm purple gore. She coughed up thick globs of blood mixed vomit, it ran like water from her mouth and down her naked blue flesh. Yet all the while, Larson continued to stare at the Turian ship commander and with one vicious twist of his wrist Larson ended Kell's life. He pulled the blade out and wiped it off oh her cheek before dropping her to land face first against the steel floor.

The Turian made a facial expression, which Larson figured for disgust, and killed the video link. Larson glanced at Naia, she was looking away and crying silently, he smiled. He looked to his commander who nodded and clapped his hands together once.

"Alright people burn the engines let's put some distance between us and them before Fleet Leviathan arrives. I'd rather be seen alive and hesitating to attack then dead as a pile of molten slag." Matheson said standing up and walking over to Larson. "Oh and Sergeant Karxon? Remember that special ammunition you _insisted_ I requisition for you?"

"Ay sir." Karxon said turning in his chair.

"Go on and have that loaded. I know you've been just itching to shoot something with it."

"Ay sir, thank you sir!" Gunnery Sergeant Karxon was clearly overjoyed and went to work on his control panel.

Larson hummed a slow, sad tune and looked at Naia before taking a breath and singing the lyrics softly. The monotone of the translator killed the artistic musical value but Naia was just able to hear his voice behind the translator to catch his intended tone.

_The Undertaker's comin',__  
__He's a comin' for you,__  
__And no sticks and stones or broken bones will keep him way from you,_

_You can flee out to the desert,__  
__Take ship out to the sea,__  
__But no matter where you run to Undertaker will find thee,_

_He's the spawn of death and darkness,__  
__Child of nightmares he,__  
__And where ever you might hide Undertaker soon you'll see,_

_He comes he sits he waits,__  
__But nobody does know,__  
__Just who the Undertaker be awaitin' to lay low,_

_People scream and panic,__  
__Death will soon ensue,__  
__But don matter what will happen Undertaker waits for you,_

_The limbs and bodies fall,__  
__Chaos takes control,__  
__But the Undertaker watches patiently for your soul,_

_The dead are piled high,__  
__Blood soaks in the sand,__  
__And the Undertaker stands up with a tape measure in hand,_

_Walks on to your body,__  
__Measures you up'n down,__  
__The Undertaker takes your soul and leaves without a sound,_

_Never doubt this story,__  
__This tale speaks so true,__  
__For the Undertaker's comin' straight from Hell for you._

* * *

**Author's note:** Wow did this take a while or what? But damn if this ain't the length a real chapter should be! Anyways, little poem at the end, thought it would add to the dark atmosphere (I wrote it from scratch =P). Oh, and as far as languages go... made the Turian language off the top of my head, the Asari is based off a website I found (can't remember what it was called) but I liked how it sounded when I read it aloud. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and expect more unnecessary violence/abuse/rape/cruelty in the near future. Enjoy.


	4. Incident IV

_**Your hate fuels me.**_

_**It is a tangible thing… So profound, so erotically carnal, I can almost reach out and run my fingers through it and drink of it to the point of sick ecstasy. It is as delicious as it is naive and so lovely in its self-implied righteousness. This is the essence of fear, the beautiful and perfect terror that thickens veins and burns eyes. **_

_**Your hate fuels my passion… and I shall feast upon it and in the feasting destroy you utterly.**_

* * *

**Just a couple replies to a couple reviews…**

**MightyBommb** – Good, they should.

**Guest **– Shame you're no longer following along but I'm not adjusting the story anymore. I recommend to all who've decided to stop reading to come back after a few chapters just to see how it's progressing. I don't want anyone missing out on the, ah, violent things to come.

**Oplindenfep **–I agree; I hope we never become the fiction I write about... also I reference WH40K because it's awesome and I'm a huge fan.

**the devils son **– Thanks, it took an hour or so to come up with it but I think it turned out well. Might do a few more, will try different a genera or two.

– I'm glad I could fill your _unnecessarily-cruel-Humanity_ craving, stay tuned for more violence.

**Mr. Chuckles **– _'Humanity's former ideals are trampled and pissed upon for your own version of dark humanity.'_ This! _So much this_. It's delightful isn't it? Good change of pace and all. I was inspired by a few fan arts on DA where Humanity (or at least Humans) was being portrayed as the bad guy and thought, 'hey… I can turn this into a story… or at least a series of brutal and violent acts with a plot threaded in.'

* * *

**No Good Deed**

By: Absolute Edge

Incident IV

* * *

**Loss**

* * *

**- - - **_**Sol-system Government's National Space Coalition**_** battleship - **_**Red Jackal**_

The _Red Jackal_ danced a deadly ballet away from the hot guns of the Turian dreadnought. Massive rounds the size of a small shuttle screamed silently past the outgunned warship at break-neck speeds, the glowing hot projectiles passing so closely they briefly illuminated sections of the ship. The dreadnought's targeting arrays were slowly gaining accuracy as rounds began skimming mere meters from the _Red Jackal's_ MS 'ZH' barrier, it shimmered as the automated defense pumped massive amounts of power to areas the dreadnought rounds passed before draining off as the computer realized it hadn't been hit. One round came within a meter of the barrier causing a static-like jolt of power to discharge from it as the computer threw an extensive volume of energy at the near miss. The static blast was relatively weak but was enough to kick the round off track by a few centimeters and continue on its unnoticeably adjusted course away from the Human warship.

"Shit that was close." Larson noted as he watched the screens.

"The barrier isn't that smart. If it keeps discharging on near misses it'll drain the capacitors. Hah, then we'll be relying on _armor_." Matheson said relaxing into his command throne.

"N'eil ae en'ei." A soft voice whispered from besides Larson.

He turned, stared at Naia, and turned the translator back on. "Come again?"

"We'll be fine." Naia repeated slowly, looking at the floor.

She'd figured out a few of Larson's ticks, to her benefit, and consciously acted upon them to avoid his... _irritation_. Averting her gaze when he looked at her and slightly bowing her head down and away seemed to keep Larson satisfied, just these small submissive behaviors that declare her unwilling fealty.

"Will we now? Correct me if I'm wrong but I'm pretty sure a double tap from that capitol will see us dead." Larson said leaning on the hand railing.

"I can't comment on that, I don't know your ship specifications." Naia said simply, hugging Aeres close, "But an unfocused Turian is an inaccurate Turian."

"Maybe I should get some more of your friends up here and broadcast some live mutilations?" Larson asked offhandedly as the ship vibrated gently. "Keep them distracted?"

"Another near miss Commander." An ensign said from across the deck.

"Time?" Matheson demanded and looking to his comms officer.

"Sounds like _Leviathan's_ out twenty-five mike sir." The comms officer said listening to the feedback the slip space sonar array was sending him.

"Fuck, Larson come here." Matheson beckoned his Champion over.

Larson moved to his Commanders side followed quickly by Naia. He turned off his translator as a precaution, though he doubted it would matter if Naia overheard them, it wasn't like she was ever getting back to her people... alive anyways.

"Yes Commander?"

"I want you and your Fesch on a shuttle pronto. Get to the _Final Solution_ and Admiral Davik when she translates. I want you off this ship in fifteen."

"You want me to _run_?" Larson said after a moment's hesitation. "Are you serious?"

Matheson sighed and placed a hand on Larson's shoulder, "Yes son I am. I can't leave, and I can't rely on anyone else to hold back from gutting that Fesch of yours."

"I understand." Larson said through grit teeth. "But I'm not happy about it."

"I'll have your things wrapped up and taken to the _Night Haunter_. Be seeing you son."

"De'val kor Se'sai, father don't do this..." Larson said softly, his head tilted down a little.

"_Lars_," Matheson gripped both of Larson's shoulders and sighed, "I need you and that thing alive. You will do this because I'm your _father_ and I'm _telling_ you to."

"Yes sir."

"I love you Larson, be seeing you." Matheson let his hand fall and went back to his command throne without another word.

He turned slowly and walked away to the bridge elevator. Though Naia didn't understand the conversation she got a feeling that something bad was about to happen. Larson had this lag in his step, this delay about him, and Naia crept after him from a slighter greater distance than usual. When she entered the elevator she pushed herself into a corner as far from Larson as possible.

She watched him from her peripheral but even with an eye on him she still jumped when he suddenly lashed out at the wall beside him. His fist pounded into the metal three times, three very powerful, very angry times, and left a small dent. Larson sighed and leaned up against the wall and flexed his hand open and closed again. He looked like a person who had just realized they had lost something precious, but Naia couldn't figure what and she dared not ask while he was upset.

The ride was a quick, quiet one with absolutely no interaction between them, Larson didn't even glance her way. Another near miss rocked the ship but where Naia was forced to extend a hand against the wall for balance Larson hardly budged. Whatever had upset him was clouding his thoughts.

The elevator doors slid open, Larson left, Naia followed. They were on the hanger deck again; Naia recognized the fighters, the half-stripped escape pod, and the black stain where Nesa had died. Apparently these aliens found dried blood aesthetically appealing-

_Fucking psychopaths…_

They made their way down the deck along the wall within two white lines that were spaced far enough apart to drive a small vehicle through, some kind of non-flight deck personnel path. On the outside of the white line closest to the fighters was a thick red line with occasional dashes in it and after a moment of observation Naia noticed that people were only crossing over the dashed sections. Naia figured it to be a type of controlled movement line. She was about to examine the docking bay and its design further but Larson had stopped suddenly and she bumped into him.

"What the?" Larson twisted around with hands clenched angrily.

"I'm sorry!" Naia yelped as one of Larson's hands came around and caught her jaw in a wide arc. She fell to a knee and angled herself away to shield Aeres, who had begun crying, from any poorly aimed strikes.

"Apparently your cunt Fesch species are as aware of their surroundings as they are parentally inept!" Larson yelled over the soft monotone of the translator as his fist rose up.

"No, please!" Naia begged, "It was an accident!"

Instead of striking her the hand came down and gripped some of her crests tightly and yanked her head back so she was staring up into his mask. Her eyes welled up with tears and her jaw clenched shut. "_You_ are the accident here! You blue squid-heads are a mistake! You fucking Fesch filth don't deserve to breath the same air we do…"

Naia didn't respond and tried to avoid his gaze but to no avail, his mask was too close to her face. "We're going to have a lot of fun you and I. Now get up and get on the shuttle."

Larson threw her head down and crossed over the dashed red lines between two black armored soldiers towards a sleek dark blue shuttle. Naia rose to her feet and tried to calm the crying child in her arms as she passed between the guards quickly.

"Get the _fuck_ away from me!" One of the guards exclaimed in disgust as he shoved her forwards towards the shuttle.

Naia lost her footing and scrapped a knee on the steel floor. The guards laughed as she hissed in pain but Naia didn't stick around to be abused again, she scrambled to her feet and chased after Larson with a small limp. She glanced up and noticed he was watching her, though his demeanor and posture seemed shockingly tolerant. Naia questioned her new owner's sanity and wondered if he was bipolar-

_You're owner…_

"Hurry up." Larson said patiently as he tilted his head to stare at her small injury.

Naia did as she was told, pushing the thought aside, and walked up the boarding ramp with the whimpering child in her arms. The interior of the craft was dark and unwelcoming; it was also cold and made Naia's breath visible, she began shivering.

"Davis, raise the ramp please." Larson said as he began rummaging through compartments.

"Your will, Champion Larson." A soft voice called out as the boarding ramp rose up on hissing pistons.

"Sit down." Larson said as he pulled a duffle bag out of a compartment and set it down on one of the seats that line the walls.

Naia walked over, the raw injuries on her feet stinging painfully against the ice cold metal. She grimaced and grunted a few times before she managed to sit down. The seats weren't all that better, probably foam wrapped in a plastic coat. She was so cold... and poor Aeres! The young one was shaking in her arms.

Larson knelt down in front of her and picked up her leg to examine the knee injury. He took a glance at the bottom of her feet but went back to her knee injury, must not be too bad. The knee scrape wasn't much of a wound really, just a small tear in flesh with a little blood, but still Larson began tending to it with some medical supplies he pulled from the duffle bag. He wiped the blood off with a sterilized alcohol pad, it stung but Naia refused flinch, before squeezing a thick transparent red-tinted gel from a tube and smeared it onto the damaged flesh.

"This is Hell Gel, just a thick goo packed with vital nutrients, cellular growth steroids, and all sorts of antibiotics." Larson muttered as he wiped his hand off and began wrapping up her knee with a gauze bandage.

"Why is it called-" Naia trailed off as a burning sensation flared up from her knee.

Larson clamped her mouth shut and pressed on her wound. The burning grew hotter, began spreading up her thigh. Naia cried into Larson's hand, pulling Aeres tightly to her chest. Though as quickly as it came the burning was extinguished equally as quick. Naia calmed down, she had begun sweating, and breathed out a long sigh of relief.

"Because it _burns_ like Hell." Larson replied with a chuckle and let her go once he decided she was no longer in pain. "It's the byproduct of the chemical reaction that takes place when the Hell Gel is actively fighting infection, viruses, germs, and what have you."

Larson stood up and put the duffle bag away but came back with something else. "Put this on. Can't have you freezing to death now can I?" Larson said with a smile in his voice as he opened a compartment and tossed a folded up suit with a pair of boots onto the co-pilot chair.

Naia stood up slowly and made to move but Larson stepped in front of her and reached for Aeres. She panicked and took a subconscious step back and turned the child away from him. Larson didn't halt his advance and simply grabbed the child from Naia with a hostile snarl.

He held the child gently in his arms but stared at Naia and sighed. "See, here's the thing. I'm all about punishment and reward. Now I've _told_ you to follow orders like the good little Fesch whore I know you are but it would seem you haven't figured it out yet. So, when we get to the _Final Solution_, you'll be going through some serious remedial training to... help you understand and adjust."

Naia's eye twitched as she realized what he was so tacitly informing her of. She nodded slowly, she shivered, and Larson nodded back and turned away. She stood there thinking about her future and what it might encompass. A dark thought slipped from the deepest reaches of her mind to cloud her better judgment.

_You're his slave now, his play thing. He owns you and there's only one thing you can do about it..._

Naia shuddered as images of suicide flashed in her head. There was always a second option. She could suffer through it to keep Aeres alive and out of harm's way, Larson didn't seem too keen on hurting her, not yet anyways. If Naia had to suffer a hundred years before she could escape with Aeres then so be it.

Larson had wrapped Aeres in a white blanket of sorts, though it looked more like a pillowcase than a blanket. However, Aeres had stopped shaking and was snuggling into Larson's chest like the little oblivious child she was. His effortless ability to calm the little girl was astounding and Naia found herself extremely envious. Even after centuries of interacting with families and their children Naia just couldn't get the hang of it. Hell, Aeres was a handful all by herself, but Naia gave herself a little credit considering the situation. This man's had… what? Twenty years, twenty-five tops? Assuming he has a lifespan like most of the other races of the galaxy, of course. Maybe he's just good with kids... the jealousy just kept building.

Naia picked up the suit and unfolded it before her. It was a black body suit with white and brown fur lining. It was surprisingly appealing to the eye, unlike most things these aliens have. Larson's armor for instance: dark paint, barbs and hooks, an intimidating mask... _freaks_.  
_  
__No, just different..._

Naia sighed inwardly as her naturally kind and forgiving personality took hold. It was a strange feeling that she didn't want to admit after all the shit these aliens had done... but Naia couldn't help but imagine what terrible event could've taken place to turn an entire species into paranoid alien hating monsters. It turned her rage into pity because her mind rejected the possibility that an entire species, so civilized and advanced, could also be so naturally... _evil_.

Naia began putting the suit on and noticed Larson staring at her as he ran his fingers over Aeres's small crests. She hesitated only in the slightest but was eager to be wrapped up tight and warm, also to be clothed after hours of exposure. Those boots looked amazing as well, fur lined and thick.

Larson looked away and disabled his translator so the aircraft controllers could hear him over the comms and began start up sequences.

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One."

"Night Haunter One, Panther Ground go ahead."

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One holding short taxiway Zulu at parking spot alpha seven requesting permission onto taxiway Zulu to access runway Omega two-three-six for launch."

"Night Haunter One, Panther Ground proceed onto taxiway Zulu and hold short runway Omega two-three-six, repeat hold short instructions Night Haunter One."

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One proceeding onto taxiway Zulu will hold short runway." Larson said running up the engines and rolling out of the aircraft parking spot slowly.

"Larson?" Naia ventured softly as she sat back down in the exceptionally comfortable and warm body suit.

"I don't think you've shown me that you deserve to call me by my given name." Larson said glancing over at her as he piloted the small shuttle along a black and yellow line.

"Oh, okay, what should I call you?" Naia asked and held her hands out motioning for Aeres; she figured it was probably in their best interests to let him pilot the ship with both hands.

"Well, seeing as how you're my slave," Larson began, handing her the child, he was being very straight forward, "and how I'll be teaching you my language so I can get rid of this shit… call me Master, makes sense doesn't it?"

Naia didn't know what to say at first, this wasn't something she was anticipating. "I-uh, I- I guess it… makes sense."

"Excellent, excellent, here, try it out." Larson said turning the shuttle sharply to the right and stopped.

"Master…" Naia said snuggling Aeres up against her warm suit.

"What a good girl." Larson said with a laugh.

Naia looked down in a combination of shame and anger but didn't respond. She just couldn't figure this guy out, he seemed to contradict everything. He hates her but he binds her wounds, despises all aliens but actively enjoys Aeres's presence… Naia needed to know what his motive was.

"Lar- ah, Master?" Naia said catching herself.

"Yes my little pet?" Larson asked sincerely, Naia flinched at the brand placed upon her.

"Please don't see me as ungrateful, I am truly, but I'm curious…" Naia glanced at her _Master_ and hesitated as her peripheral picked up on the snarl angling itself in her direction. "Why did you help me just now?"

Larson stared at her for a long moment before responding and though he answered her question fully she couldn't stop her heart from sinking as the translator whispered to her her fate.

"You… are my _property_ now. You are mine in the same way that this armor is mine and this pistol is mine. I take care of my property; I oil my guns, I polish my armor, and I'll heal your wounds." Larson said simply, as if it was the _most normal thing in the world_, "Besides, the maintenance floor isn't exactly a sterile location. Floor's covered in seventy-eight-oh-eight, eighty-three-two-eighty-two, hydrazine, Detamozine acid… and I can't have you dying of exposure so soon; orders are to keep you alive."

Something came over the comms to distract Larson and give Naia a few moments to process what he'd just said. She became concerned that she _wasn't_ worried by his words… she was _happy_. She was so fucking happy that Larson was going to keep her alive, though as a play thing maybe but alive nonetheless. Naia smiled and looked down at Aeres who had fallen asleep in her arms and remained asleep. She looked so peaceful, so blissfully ignorant lying there.

"Night Haunter One, Panther Ground proceed onto runway two-three-six for launch radio clear of runway when off ship, relay launch clearance instructions Night Haunter One." The comms hissed quietly.

Larson looked away and twisted the shuttle onto the runway, a simple stretch of open track angled slightly away from the rest of the space craft parking spots to guide a vessel off the ship.

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One launching on runway two-three-six will advise when off ship." Larson grabbed a lever and threw it forwards.

Almost instantly Naia felt the shuttle vibrate before slowly rolling down the runway. Though this man held her life in the palm of his hand she couldn't help but smirk at their sub-par technology. Then he pulled down on a handled double lever and Naia was practically sucked into her seat by the head throbbing acceleration. The shuttle shrieked down the runway, the engines spitting trails of fire and screaming thunder. Flashes of color blew by in an artsy mosaic blur before Larson pulled back slightly and angled the joystick to the left putting the shuttle in a hard arc mere meters off the deck.

The shuttle exploded out of the _Red Jackal's_ MS 'ZH' barrier and continued in its arc before leveling out and flying away from the _Red Jackal_ at forty-five degrees. Larson killed the engines and pressed a few buttons as the shuttle coasted at the insanely high takeoff speed which it would continue traveling at unless opposed.

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One off runway at this time." Larson said quickly.

"Understood Night Haunter One."

An alert screeched accompanied by flashing red lights just a heartbeat before a bright white light lit up the interior of the shuttle, passed it, and continued on in the same second it arrived.

"Proximity alert, one of the Fesch rounds almost got us. Fuckers, don't they know there's a _child_ aboard?" Larson said throwing his hands up in a comic jest before setting his hands back on the controls with a sigh. "I'll see them all six feet under, even if it kills me."

"It will." Naia said as her heart calmed down from the surprise near-death experience.

"Not before you." Larson looked over at her and tilted his head slightly. "Davis, take us to the designated rendezvous point."

Naia shrank back into her seat and pulled Aeres close. Larson chuckled and let go of the controls and leaned back into his seat with a depressed sigh.

The shuttle was illuminated by another flash of light, this time from behind them. The light quickly grew in intensity and Naia had to close her eyes to keep from being blinded by it. A few thuds echoed throughout the shuttle and Naia opened her eyes, the light was gone. The blast shutters had slammed shut, probably a sensor tripped to let the computer know the light was reaching retina damaging levels.

"Do you know what that was?" Larson asked slowly, knowingly.

"No Master." Naia replied softly glancing over at him, never making direct eye contact... well, eye-mask contact.

"That, my little Fesch whore," Naia frowned at his oh-so casual use of the phrase but it didn't sting nearly as much as she thought it would. This was just the way he was and Naia had to pick and choose what she wanted to hear and let the rest roll of her shoulders, "was a MS 'ZH' barrier failing."

Larson unbuckled his harness and stood up, his boots mag-locking to the deck, and he made his way to the rear of the shuttle. "Davis, roll up the shutters please."

"Your will, Champion Larson." Davis said slowly.

Larson stood before the small rear viewport and placed a hand against the glass and the shutters retracted. Naia unbuckled her harness and followed him, she stood a little ways back and just off to one side enough to see what he was staring at. Her boots didn't lock her to the floor so she had to hold onto a seat to keep from drifting away.

It was so quiet in the shuttle, the purr of the engines and the sublime whisper of ventilation fans the only constant sounds, that Naia could hear Larson breathing. Harsh, shaky breaths came slowly, as if he was doing his absolute best to control his emotions... and maybe he was. Naia could take a few blind guesses as to why.

The _Red Jackal_ was more than just another ship to Larson. It was more than a block of steel bristling with gun batteries and sensor arrays, dancing under the shimmering light of a barrier, it was his home... and it was about to be taken away from him.

Naia wanted to smile so badly, wanted to break out laughing at his upcoming loss, but couldn't. Her conscious was pushing her hate away and replacing it with sympathy and understanding. It reminded her, in graven detail, of loved ones lost and how devastated she had been. It challenged her to think about what Larson was about to go through, enemy or not, on either side of the line it hits home in the same way.

No, Naia couldn't be cold hearted, it just wasn't her disposition to be so hateful. She was wired a peculiar way that almost entirely prevented her from acting upon dark thoughts, regardless of how small or petty.

Oh but she'll think about it alright, she'll fantasize the fuck out of it. Then afterwards she feels like shit for doing so. Sometimes, certain events occur that make Naia hate her overly kind nature. Sometimes, Naia wished she could let loose on someone. Naia wanted the ability to laugh at someone's misfortune. She wants to be a good person but some people deserve to be hurt.

_You're turning into Larson..._

Naia closed her eyes and shook her head to try and clear her thoughts. She looked up, Larson had a hand on the window and was breathing softly, and frowned. She had this urge to comfort him, almost a need to help someone in distress, but didn't want to. Regardless, she felt her hand extending towards Larson's shoulder... and then she noticed it.

Larson's pistol was exposed. Naia could snatch it right off his hip and put a round in his head, like poor Nesa. Quick, painless, and no one would care. She'd wait for the _Red Jackal_ to be destroyed and simply fly the craft over to the Turian dreadnought. It might take her a minute to figure out the controls and how to open a channel to the Turians but she was far enough away that she wouldn't need to worry about being shot at, such a small target was a nightmare for the dreadnoughts targeting array.

Her hand dipped down to the bulky, bizarrely designed pistol. It didn't collapse or fold up for storage but remained at full size at all times. The handle itself was wide; it probably stored the power cell or fusion core within the grip, but good Goddess the _barrel!_ It had to be 20 centimeters long! And girl was it thick… Naia couldn't fathom the power within. For a brief moment she imagined it as a cornered animal, massive and layered in muscle and about to give everything it's got to escape. The shear potential held in check by something as simple as the small mechanical catch on the firing mechanism… it was hard for her to fathom.

It intimidated her on a level she's never felt before. It wasn't just a massively powerful weapon that could probably punch straight through the special Turian Predator armor, through the user, and out the back. It was an executioner's weapon, a device designed with the sole purpose of inspiring terror in its victim. To leave no room for hope when staring down that colossal barrel; a knowing glint of steel at the end of the dark tunnel, the slightest hint of what lay beyond.

A blink of light distracted Naia and Larson's fist coming up in a flash and slamming into the reinforced glass caused Naia's hand to hesitate just inches from the grip.

"No! _FUCK!_" Larson screamed and continued to smash his fist in to the glass, "_GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!"_

Naia flinched and took a step back; her thought process went from revenge and escape to survival mode. She glanced over his shoulder and… the _Red Jackal_ was just visible in the distance. It had been cracked in two by the _Thessius._ Gases were venting into space along with bits of debris and… people, a lot of people. Void death… considered the most painful way to die next to burning to death.

Both of Larson's hands were up against the glass; he was seething and… weeping. This was Naia's chance, possibly her only chance.

_This is it! Go for it!_

Naia slowly set Aeres down in one of the chairs lining the wall of the shuttle, tucking her slightly under the arm rest to keep her from drifting away in the zero gravity and crept back to Larson. She pulled every last drop of courage from the bowels of her heart and lunged in for the pistol. It was surprisingly easy to retrieve and as she stepped back to aim she realized she had to use two hands to hold it upright. Larson twisted around with an angry growl, the tips of his armored fingers grazing her face but his other hand didn't miss the pistol. Though it wasn't a direct strike and hit her hand instead of the weapon it greatly knocked her aim off as she squeezed the trigger.

It was possibly the worst possible outcome of the situation, exception being the round striking Aeres. The bullet made contact with one of the windows behind Larson and Naia's breath caught in her throat. For a brief moment, as the adrenalin surged through her veins, she thought she could see the thick round travel through the glass. It was slow, dedicated on its path, and turned purposefully as the glass cracked and splintered around it. Each crack spreading along around the bullet was another cut in Naia's diminishing existence, each millimeter the round traveled was another moment closer to death, and there was nothing Naia could do- the glass exploded as the integrity failed against the pressure difference.

Naia stumbled forwards into Larson, the scream of air whipped them back and threatened to force them out of the shuttle. The pistol slipped from her hand and vanished into the dark abyss behind them. Larson was back up against the wall, his head mere centimeters from the shattered window, and Naia had fallen into his chest. She was hugging onto him tightly with eyes locked shut and teeth barred in terror.

Larson gripped a handrail bolted to the wall and forced himself down to the floor with Naia fused to his body. He was terribly worried, terribly afraid not for himself but for little Aeres. Fortunately, the arm rests between each seat was blocking her deadly escape. Larson sighed to himself and spoke softly into the comms unit built into his mask.

"Davis, I could use a hand here." Larson practically whispered though the air was bellowing in his ears.

"I exist to serve Champion Larson." Davis said as the blast shutter slammed shut.

The air stilled, sound came back, peace returned. Naia leaned back with a soft gasp and stared at Larson with the oddest look. It was almost apologetic, almost thankful, and almost affectionate. It was everything Larson hadn't expected to find twisted into her features. Naia had this way about her that Larson was slowly starting to understand, it almost made him laugh, he loved her personality… she would please him for months should he allow her to live any longer. However, Larson refrained from something as mundane as joyous mirth and opted for a more satisfying action.

Larson ran his hands up Naia's arms to her shoulders and violently shoved her off him. She fell back onto the steel floor between two chairs but Larson didn't give her the time of day to recover. He was upon her in a heartbeat and cratered his fist into her face before she could bring her hands up to block; the surprise look on her face was where the real entertainment was at, it made him smile through his furry.

He hauled her up by her throat and slammed her down over a chair, her lower and central back striking the arm rests awkwardly. He bent her head back and to the side, her legs kicking air and fingers clawing at his hands and mask.

"Not going to lie, you had me dead to rights…" The translator hissed softly, his fingers loosened and Naia took in a long breath. Larson shook his head in disbelief and sighed, "but you were never going to kill me, know why?"

He twisted his grip to make Naia's head turn left and right, he laughed, "Because I'm _better than you_. I'm Human and you're... You're just another vile little afterthought whose pitiful excuse for an existence slipped by Mother Nature. Now it comes to her chosen species, the rightful rulers of the galaxy, to once again purge the filth from her lands."

"Only the strong survive, that's her law, and we survived…" Naia muttered through angry teeth and teary eyes, "We are strong. Very, _very_ strong."

"Strong…" Larson laughed and slipped a hand down her body, rolling over her curves and slants, savoring the angles she provided for him in this position, and between her legs. She yelped in surprise, her eyes widening and face rippling in horror, his hand clamped down tightly, "or _loose_?"

Larson didn't allow her to respond and yanked his hand out from between her legs and cracked his fist into her face. Naia collapsed, unconscious and sporting a broken nose, and Aeres started crying. The sudden sound surprised Larson, he had thought the little one passed out during the breach. Though perhaps she did and was now waking up dazzled and irritated, though for the moment Larson ignore her. He sat Naia up in the chair, her limp body a slight challenge to maneuver around, and buckled her in. He ran a finger along the curvature of her jaw and brushed some blood away from her nose and leaned back.

"If I didn't have orders… If my father hadn't…" Larson shook his head and lifted his mask up over his head to wear it like a hat while he wiped the tears away; his hands were shaking. "You will never hate me as much as I hate you…"

He smiled sadly, sniffing to keep his nose from running. He looked over to Aeres, still crying, and moved over to her. "Oh no, shush now little one."

Larson picked her up and rocked her gently in his arms making soft, soothing sounds. He leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead. Aeres continued to cry but had drastically calmed down, becoming a soft whimper. Larson smiled and laughed quietly to himself. "Hey there baby girl."

Aeres look up at him and grabbed at the small barbs on his armor, "Oh no don't do that, you might hurt yourself."

Larson held her close and cuddled her against his chest, keeping her clear of the potentially harmful barbs and hooks. He kissed her crests and turned to another window just as Davis sounded over the speakers.

"Champion Larson, Fleet Leviathan will be exiting slip space momentarily." Davis said softly.

"Thank you Davis… just… just a little late is all." Larson choked on a sob and dropped his head up against the glass as he watched the _Red Jackal_ drift to pieces.

His father was gone, he wouldn't abandon ship. He wasn't that kind of person to be seen as retreating, it made Larson smile regardless. Aeres got a little louder, pulling Larson from his thoughts, and he backed away and looked down at her with a smile. He turned away from the window and leaned up against the wall before sinking to down to the floor. Larson bit back his quivering breath but couldn't stop the tears. He stroked Aeres's crests and sang to her softly in tunes shaken by a broken voice while he waited the arrival of Fleet Leviathan.

* * *

**Author's note:** The world lost a great man this Monday, my grandfather passed away and I'm just _now_ finding out. I'm greatly distraught by this, I really loved my grandpa. He will be missed.

Remind those special to you that you love them because you might not get to do so later… because I didn't get to and I don't want anyone else to regret.

The next chapter will have the torture scene, just a word of warning in advance. I think you'll all enjoy it, might not be excessive enough but let me know what you think in the comments.

* * *

**- - - Excerpt Bonus from Incident V - - -**

"I'm going to go say hi. Stay here and observe Naia. I'll be having you in there soon enough." Larson said unbolting the heavy metal door to the interrogation room.

"In there Master?" Naia asked concerned.

Larson walked past her and grabbed the little push cart, "Yes, how else do I expect you to assist me in the future if you don't know what you're doing? This is as much about revenge as this is about training."

Naia grimaced as Larson closed the door behind him but, being the good pet that she was, turned to the glass and watched regardless of how her stomach felt about it.

"Well hello there." Larson said leaving the cart by the door and pulling out Karak's gag. He began moving the speakers over to the far wall.

"Tech de krav? T'nier na krav mesh?" Karak hissed out through a locked jaw. His entire body was still tense from the sonic attack of the senses but he was visibly calming down, however his eyes twitched back and forth. The effects of audio torture would last a day or two but Karak didn't have that kind of time.

"I don't speak your filthy Fesch language and I know you don't speak mine." Larson pulled the tray over to one side of Karak so it was just within his eye sight and tossed off the cover.

Naia breathed in slightly, as did Karak. Glass jars of unknown chemicals, syringes of varying size, blades, saws, clamps, and hooks covered both shelves of the little cart. Larson picked up something small, rusted, and thin and turned to Karak holding it up so he could see.

"You murdered my father you little fucking shit." Larson said calmly and crouched down in front of Karak who twitched his mandibles and barred his teeth. "I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to hurt you a lot."

Naia watched Larson hold up the small metal bit, "Do you know what this is? This is a nail, and it's going in your eye."

Karak screamed as Larson pushed the nail through Karak's left eye. A clear liquid pooled around the rusted shaft before dark blue blood seeped into the mix and ran down his cheek like tears.

"Fucking blue? Seriously? My pet bleeds purple and you bleed blue, this is going from fascinating to comical real quick."

"T'nier na krav ketch?" Karak said through clenched teeth, his right eye following Larson as his left eyelid half-closed around the nail.

"Yeah, no, still don't understand." Larson laughed and went over to his little cart. "But pain is a language all its own, _everyone_ understands it, so we'll just use pain to communicate. How's that sound? Here let's talk some more."


End file.
